deepundergroundpoetry.com

Interstate 45

We were on I-45.
The people by the lake
Began to dive,
I could tell their smiles weren't fake.

This road was its own story
I read all of the words in the tar
Trying to find some glory
There but, that section was just too far.

My dejection was spilled
Onto a lesser known street
Where it is filled
With life, fleeting.

In the sunlit suburb,
A small land with verdant fields
I lie, becoming the grass' own
Just waiting for me to disappear.
Written by thecomet77
Published
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